The Hands of Time Keep Ticking
by Iona Nineve
Summary: Jo and Henry find something they have in common, and it's sitting above Jo's fireplace. She will learn something new and Henry, once the student, will be her teacher. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: As ever I own nothing.**

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The Hands of Time Keep Ticking

Henry Morgan stood on the door stoop as Detective Martinez unlocked her door. It had been a long case and he had taken it upon himself to escort her home, since it was on his way home.

When the door opened she entered and held it open, motioning for him to enter. "Will Abe kill you if you stay awhile?" She asked jokingly at his hesitation.

"Only if I'm late for dinner." He responded, stepping inside.

Jo was in the kitchen, preparing some evening coffee; leaving Henry in the living room, taking in the coxy but simple room. The clock on the mantle caught his attention and he moved to stand in front of it. On the face, encircled by Roman numerals, was an ornately fonted 'M', the wood base was cherry with stylized leaf bas relief carvings; two small cherubs, one on either side of the face; and two small acorn spires rested, one atop each base wing.

"So, was there a past death of Henry Morgan that solved this case?" Jo asked, returning from the kitchen. Since he had revealed to her his condition, she had made it a habit to ask if the completed case had been cracked with a personal experience.

"Not mine, no. However, in 1852 I incurred the wrath of one very powerful madame in Kansas City. She attempted to poison me, unfortunately the poor girls she sent got the cups mixed up." A similar circumstance had surrounded the last case. Finishing his statement, he was again drawn to the timepiece. "This is a very nice mantle clock."

She looked up to the silent clock. "It was a wedding gift from Sean's sister. It was one of the few gifts we kept, actually. 'M' for Moore and Martinez, so it fit. I think she said she found it at an antique shop in town. It certainly looks old."

"It is. Early 18th century, British craftsmanship. Original porcelain hand painted face."

"Wow. You can tell that from just looking at it."

"It's not ticking."

"It hasn't for awhile. the last time it was wound was the morning Sean left for DC. There was some sort of hiding place for the key, he found it and since he knew how to wind it he was the one who did that. I don't even know how to wind one without breaking it, even if I knew where the key was."

As she explained he continued his inspection of the clock, now most certain of its origin.

~1788~

"Henry, now watch carefully." His father said, having guided him to the mantle upon which sat an old clock, the Morgan family monogram painted on the face. "This is a very important task that I am entrusting to you." The boy nodded, trying to look as mature as his nine years would allow. HIs father lifted the left spire, to Henry's amazement, it came easily from its place, from a small hook at its bottom hung the key. Noticing the awe shining in his son's eyes, he smiled. "You can thank your grandfather for that little trickery." Henry continued to watch as his father began winding the clock, via its three openings on the face. "Now, be careful. You musn't overwind, or it will break. A good way to remember is the number of keyholes: three keyholes, each turned three times. Go on, Henry, wind the last one." He handed the boy the key. Henry reached to the fullest extent of his height, just enough to turn the key thrice around.

Still looking at the clock, though with a thought distance glazing his eyes, Henry stood as Jo watched him curiously.

"You alright, Henry?"

"Yes, fine. I just…" He responded, fading off. Then, reaching up he lifted the left spire on the clock to reveal an old key dangling from it.

"How did you know that was there?" Jo asked in amazement, coming up to stand next to him.

"My grandfather, Amos Morgan, was left handed."

"What does your grandfather have to do with this?"

"You said that your sister-in-law bought it at an antique shop in the city?"

"Yeah. What-" The coincidence struck her. "Oh… This was one of yours."

"Yes. I don't recall the sale, though Abe probably does. My grandfather had it made to particular specifications, including the Morgan family monogram on the face. A peculiar fellow by all accounts."

"I think it runs in the family." Jo commented, teasing in her tone.

He smiled slightly at her opinion. "My father taught me how to properly wind a clock and I in turn taught Abe on this very clock." He recounted as he wound two of the mechanisms. "And now I shall teach you." He took her hand and placed the key in her open palm. "Wind up that last one. Give it three turns." She did so.

All three hands ticking away, Henry pulled out his watch and moved them to read the correct time. "My compliments to Grandpa Amos. It's a beautiful clock." Jo said replacing the key. "You'll have to tell me more about him, later."

"I will." He assured. Looking at the clock, he noticed the time. "But I must be getting home or I'll be finding myself in the river before the night is out." Reaching the door he turned for one last instruction. "It's an eight day clock but wind it every seven and you won't have to correct it. And as my grandfather would say, the hands of time will keep ticking."


End file.
